


Sportsman's Hell

by Dan_Francisco



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: Trevor, Sypha and Alucard are tasked by a group of Americans to investigate the mysterious circumstances surrounding a local village, suspected to be host to a demon of some kind. However, demonic entities and zombies are not the only threat in the Bayou...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: /r/FanFiction Prompt Challenge #19 / June 2020





	Sportsman's Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Promptfill for r/fanfiction's monthly prompts, utilizing a random genre generator. I was given the Horror genre to work with.

Trevor hated docks.

Nothing good ever came from places where the air was so rank with the smell of fish literally anything else was impossible to detect. He didn’t much like fishermen either, though maybe it was also accurate to say fishermen didn’t like _him._ He didn’t like their accents – the ones from Romania, anyway, trying to understand English wasn’t worth his time – he didn’t like their attitude, and he _definitely_ didn’t like how they smelled of fish whenever they stepped into the room. At least they knew where to find good beer.

Still, that wasn’t good enough for Trevor, to be honest. He liked a good drink as much as anyone else, but talking to fishermen wasn’t his idea of a good time. Better to just sit back and observe, not let anyone know who he was, rather than let someone else get pissed off and start another drunken barfight. Then again, he _was_ in America now. Maybe they were different here, or maybe they weren’t and he was deluding himself again.

Trevor hated being sober.

Sighing as he readjusted the bag on his back, Trevor followed Sypha and Alucard as they moved their way through the Louisiana crowd, full of people speaking English he didn’t understand and a creole French he half-understood. The air felt warm, slightly muggy for his tastes, but more pronounced than the heat was the sense of fear. Fear over what, Trevor wasn’t sure. It could have been anything, from the rumors of demons and evils he heard about to the upcoming taxes.

Or, maybe, it was the weird heavily armed Europeans that just docked at their port. Who could tell, honestly? Right now, he didn’t much care for the reasons _why_. All he cared about was surviving another insane adventure that Sypha had roped them into. At least Alucard was here to navigate the strange world of America. The crowd here was overwhelming, both from the smell of fish on their shoulders to the usual rank sights and smells of a city. He struggled to recall why they had even decided to cross the oceans anyway, until the whiff of demonic entities and dark magic brought back the memories of every single bad day he ever had in Romania.

And Poland. And Austria. And Bulgaria. And Sweden. And Scotland. And France. And… was it Sicily or Milan?

“We’re almost there,” Sypha said, breaking Trevor out of his thoughts. They had somehow moved beyond the outskirts of the port to the interior of the town, where short-stack houses bunched up next to the perimeters of colonial-era mansions and the occasional brick-and-mortar building. The avenues of New Orleans reminded him of… well, actual Orleans, honestly, just with far less French flair and about eighty percent less condescension radiating off the inhabitants. The fronts of each building had some sort of sign in front, advertising either the latest tonic, a cure-all drink nebulously called “Koke” and so many local and regional foods and knickknacks that Trevor honestly didn’t think he had the time to peruse even half of them. Eventually, they managed to reach their destination, a small, unassuming place that had a stout sign only marked with “A.H.A” and a heavily secured door.

Alucard knocked, and on the other side a pair of distrusting eyes slid open a viewport to glare at them. Whoever it was must have judged them as worthy, as a flurry of locks being worked accompanied the door being thrown open, and a gruff voice invited them inside. Trevor sighed as he followed Sypha in, only softening his hard-set face when she began to gush over the tools and magical items improbably contained within the building.

“Remind me why we’re in a museum dedicated to the tools I already have at the old estate in Romania?” Trevor asked, breaking Sypha from gushing over a blessed lance.

“This is more than just a simple _museum,_ Trevor,” Sypha replied, rolling her eyes as the followed Alucard. “This is the headquarters of the American Hunters Association, they’re responsible for organizing the men and women who work to destroy evil across America.”

Trevor hummed, looking up as Alucard slowed down. A black woman sat behind a desk, a hat covering her head and dressed in rather utilitarian leather garb. She glanced up at them, saying something to Alucard, who immediately replied in English. Well, guess Trevor didn’t get to know what they were talking about today. Whatever, not like he cared much. The two had a short conversation, after which Alucard turned to them, his usual stoic expression marking his face.

“So, that was Sienna Murphy,” Alucard said, “chairwoman of the A.H.A, or at least this chapter in Louisiana. There’s a small bayou town about forty kilometers from here, and they would like us to investigate it.”

Scoffing, Trevor rolled his neck slowly. “What makes us so special? Don’t _they_ have people to do that for them?”

“This is different,” Alucard said, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t have all the details, of course, but I suspect this is something that may challenge even us. These are not simple demons conjured by black magic, I fear.”

“Hmm, sounds like a wonderful way to die in foreign land,” Trevor said deadpan. “I hope it pays well, at least.”

Alucard smirked, leading them out of the A.H.A’s little headquarters. “The contracts will pay handsomely, provided we bring back proof of completion. The heads of the creatures we banish should suffice.”

Contracts. Banishment. Bringing back heads. Well, at least the Americans didn’t act much different from the Europeans. He sighed, following Alucard to their hotel. May as well properly prepare for this. He told Sypha and Trevor that Ms. Murphy had given them a map of the area, which was sure to help them in fighting these monsters. All Trevor cared about right now was finding a good beer, and getting this job done.

* * *

The bayou was hot. Far too hot for Trevor’s liking, honestly. The humidity that made every bead of sweat stick to his clothes and make everything he touched feel like it was covered in four layers of unidentifiable liquid was even worse. Alucard didn’t much seem bothered by the sweltering heat, but Trevor and Sypha both, unaccustomed to the climate, were suffering.

“We should be careful,” Alucard warned as they entered the outskirts of the village. The entire place was spread out, reflective of how people down here lived their lives. Most just wanted to be left the hell alone, a stance Trevor respected. “There’s other teams of hunters contracted by the A.H.A out here. No doubt they want the reward for themselves.”

“I thought they asked _us_ to investigate?” Trevor asked, adjusting the Mannlicher on his back. “What’s with these other teams?”

Alucard sighed, shaking his head. “They wanted us to investigate, but anyone is free to take up the contract. This pays nearly ten thousand dollars – that’s worth a lot no matter where you’re from.”

“So, you think these other hunters will be dangerous?” Sypha asked.

“Naturally. With this much money on the line, I would wager these hunters are just as likely to turn their weapons on us as they are the demons that squat in this village.”

Trevor sighed, unslinging his rifle. No need to check if he was loaded, all he had to do was turn the safety off and be on guard for any danger. Just ahead of them, Trevor could see listless-looking people wandering around. These must have been the “zombies” that the A.H.A warned them about. Didn’t look like they had noticed their happy little band. Behind him, Sypha prepared her knife while Alucard hummed, no doubt already bored. Sypha’s blade found its mark in the first zombie that crossed their path, spurting blood like a stuck pig as a handful of others advanced towards them. Shouldering his rifle, Trevor took careful aim. Five bullets, five targets to take care of, but he had to be careful not to expend too much ammunition on these mere grunts. Who knew what sort of enemies awaited them elsewhere, human and demon alike.

The first shots of the day were always harder to take than most – not because of any particular moral quandary Trevor had with slaying demons, but because damn it, the recoil _hurt._ The noise had attracted the attention of a few other misfortunate souls damned to this fate, and they shuffled towards the trio with clumsy, haphazard steps. Trevor reloaded as quickly as the Mannlicher could let him, while Alucard had finally decided to join in the fight, unsheathing his cavalry sword and closing in to decimate the incoming ranks of zombies with little effort.

“We need to head northwest,” Alucard said, slicing off a head. “The map says there’s a slaughterhouse, and I can feel the magic radiating from it.”

For now, the zombies seemed to have been dispatched. Alucard led them across the swamps, for he was the only one who could read the map with any reasonable accuracy and be able to tell them where they were headed. The strange sounds of the swamp echoed from every corner, behind every tree, and under each plank of wood they crossed. Birds sang unusual songs, insects chimed in, and occasionally the otherworldly groan of some horrific being off in the distance loomed like their shadows. The sun had begun to set by the time they arrived in the area, a result of the long ride here, and the sky had begun to turn a deep pinkish-orange color, almost like an artist was mixing magenta and amber pigments together against the blue backdrop of the sky. It might be dark by the time they arrived at the slaughterhouse, and Trevor did not much relish fighting in the dark. Only Alucard had an electric torch, a technological marvel that he refused to share the design details of with Trevor.

But, such things Trevor couldn’t think of. Alucard was on alert, Sypha’s magic was prepared and deadly as per usual, and of course his rifle could tackle anything that required a more distant touch, chain-whip prepared for close encounters of the demonic kind. They were healthy, fit, and fighting the zombies hadn’t taken that much out of them. And yet, the idea of potentially hostile hunter teams troubled him. Every time he looked to the thickets of pencil-like trees out across the lake they were crossing, Trevor thought he saw movement. Men in black hats and women in suits, armed to the teeth with American lever-action rifles and shotguns all prepared to kill them without a second thought. If they could track where they had come in from and lay an ambush for them at night… Trevor wasn’t sure if they could survive it.

Eventually, their trek across the bridge ended and they returned to solid land. The moans and shouts of the zombies grew louder, accompanied by distant gunshots. That definitely confirmed a hostile group, but the span between shots was so quick, Trevor couldn’t tell if it was multiple shooters, or just one with a particularly quick hand. Either way, he wasn’t a fan. He’d seen some of those American rifles, and they could carry a _lot_ of bullets. If they got into a gunfight with that sort of shooter, he could put a lot of lead out before any of them could even think to find cover.

“Stop,” Alucard ordered, raising his sword. Trevor didn’t dare step another foot, scanning the area for any potential hostiles. Something chittered, as if it was choking on something. A strange being on two legs crested a small hill just in front of them, a large dull gray-colored thing covering where a head and upper torso would be, its arms and legs lank and devoid of skin or muscle. It didn’t look like it noticed them.

“What… _is_ that?” Sypha asked quietly, her voice trembling as it left her mouth.

“The Americans call it an Armored,” Alucard explained. “Do you see that chitinous structure surrounding it? It provides defense against bullet and blunt objects.”

Trevor sighed, sorely wishing he had bought the fucking bayonet for this rifle off that Hungarian. “So, what _can_ kill it? It’s in our way.”

“It’s weak to fire and cutting attacks, but Sypha, don’t you _dare_ start a fire now. We can’t control its blaze, and I would rather not broadcast our position to any others out here.”

Well, looked like Alucard already had this figured out. Why did he need Trevor and Sypha again? Slowly, Alucard approached the beast and delivered a series of quick attacks that killed it without issue, causing it to fall backwards as it moaned in pain. Time to move on. As he reached the top of the hill, Trevor could see the top of the slaughterhouse just ahead of them. Looked like a typical American structure, mostly wood with a metal roof. Who knew what else awaited them between here and there, especially if these gunshots were anything to go off of.

Alucard urged them on, and they moved through an abandoned farm. The fields of wheat were incredibly tall, and for a few moments Trevor lost sight of Sypha and Alucard. He kept silent, only moving in the same direction he knew to follow in. No point in trying to call out for them, since as Alucard had pointed out, broadcasting their position wasn’t the best of ideas. He put one foot in front of the other, shoving away stalks of wheat that got in his way. How wide was this stupid field anyway?

On his right, a man stepped into his vision. A heavy beard marked his face, and he wore a gray tunic with a worn-down hat of similar cloth. He had a blued revolver in his hand, which was lowered and not prepared for a fight. Trevor reacted quickly, grabbing the unknown man’s arm and throwing him to the ground. A quick blow to the head with his rifle’s stock would disorient him, give Trevor time to shoot him and move on. After all, if there was one nearby, there was sure to be more – smart men don’t go into wheat fields by themselves. The sharp report from Trevor’s rifle startled a murder of crows nearby, who cawed as they scattered off, and before long the man’s blood seeped past his gray tunic.

It didn’t take long for the bullets to come for him. He could hear them whip and crack the air around him as he ducked and ran, shouting to Sypha and Alucard that there was trouble. Somebody was shouting, definitely hostile judging by the fact it was probably in English. Eventually, Trevor broke through the wheat field into open ground, where Sypha and Alucard were already heading to cover behind a series of fallen trees, apparently a lumber prospect of some sort. Well, better than nothing. The bullets followed Trevor as he sprinted across a muddy road, but just as suddenly as the chaotic scene had started, it stopped. The gunmen either ran away or had been scared off by something, as their shooting abruptly ceased and an eerily calm wind blew across the wheat, shuffling it back and forth. Trevor dared to peek up from cover, seeing nothing but a trail of blood where the unknown shooters must have dragged their now dead friend out from the wheat.

Slowly, Alucard and Sypha joined him, all scanning the area for potential enemies. Trevor definitely couldn’t see any, and Alucard claimed he didn’t sense anyone nearby. Better to move on and not get caught in another gunfight, since surely if these people had run off, maybe there was someone – or even something – deadlier nearby. Right now, blazing a path through the woods was their best option. Good cover, some concealment, and there was little chance of stumbling upon someone in the middle of it like Trevor had done in the field.

“So,” Sypha asked as they weaved through the trees, “what happened in the field?”

“Someone came up on me, they weren’t ready for a fight. I was. Simple as that.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “We could have found something out from them, you know. You didn’t have to kill them.”

“Well, when someone’s walking around a field with a gun in their hand, I’m not much in the mood for asking questions,” Trevor replied, rolling his eyes. The forest edge was approaching, and so too was a final stretch of ground before they could approach the slaughterhouse. So far, they hadn’t had any sight of another team other than that one person Trevor had shot. Sure, they _heard_ the others, from distances unknown, but that didn’t mean they stuck around. After all, Trevor didn’t much stick around after a gunfight.

“A… stable?” Sypha asked, blinking as she stared out at the new locale. “This seems almost… peaceful.”

“Don’t let it fool you,” Alucard warned. “There’s something wrong here. I can feel it.”

Trevor racked the bolt back on his Mannlicher. Still mostly loaded, just one less. No need to top off now. “More enemy hunters?”

“No,” Alucard said grimly. “Something else. Perhaps a demon, or some other twisted horror like the Armored.”

On the other side of the stable’s clearing, a handful of crows cawed as they scattered off. Maybe an enemy? Or something else had startled them. Either possibility wasn’t one Trevor liked. The stable itself was rather run-down, with horses lying on their side either dead or gravely wounded, some of which were neighing loudly in pain. A gentle soul would put them down, but Trevor knew firing shots off now would only bring more hunters on them that were all too eager to take them out. Alucard slit the throats of each horse with only a short apology, leading them through the area to creep ever closer to the slaughterhouse.

As they neared the opposite end of the stable grounds however, a strange wheezing filled the air. The rumble of thunder rolled through the area just as quickly and before Trevor knew it the sky had darkened, replete with rain, dark clouds and the shroud of night. Gone was any semblance of light, replaced by intermittent flashes of thunder and the moaning that emanated from the strange being that they knew not the position of.

“Hive,” Alucard hissed. “Be quiet. It’s incredibly deadly.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Trevor muttered. “I always wanted to die in the middle of a swamp while it was storming.”

Alucard sighed, preparing his own revolver, a Russian piece that he had attached something he called a “suppressor” to. “Sypha, prepare your fire magic. If it detects us, it will surely send its drones to attack us and attempt to infect our bloodstreams with its poison.”

“Anything you want me to do, or should I act as a sacrificial lamb?” Trevor asked.

“I want you to shoot the head if it doesn’t see us. Oh, minor point of note,” Alucard explained, only slightly turning towards Trevor as he cautiously led them through the area. “Don’t aim for the tallest part. That’s not its head. Aim for the human head, or else you’ll need a second shot.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow, finding his advisement incredibly lacking. “You know an awful lot about these creations, Alucard.”

“Well, I do have the knowledge of entire generations of humanity in my head. Unfortunately, humans are rather _inventive_ in finding new ways to torture each other, and I’ve learned most all forms you can imagine.”

Trevor sighed, falling in behind Alucard and Sypha. Well, he should have expected a minor lecture on the human condition. Anything less and he’d believe Alucard would burst into flames. Either way, they had to move – quietly – through the stables, the sound of the so-called Hive growing louder and closer, paradoxically also moving away and falling silent at the same time. The unease of not knowing whether or not the Hive knew where they were began to affect him, especially if it decided to target him. The idea of fighting off a poisonous horde of God-knows what didn’t much appeal to him, especially if Sypha had to resort to fire magic to stave them off. The feelings of doom were not much abated by the flashes of lightning that provided only the slimmest glimpses of the horror stalking them.

They paused near a wooden fence that, to Trevor, looked like it would show them more than conceal. The Hive moaned and, oddly enough, seemed to sob as it neared them. Trevor could hear the insects it commanded buzzing ever so slightly, a few wandering near him. Alucard silently urged them to resist the temptation to swat. The rain continued to soak them, now starting to roll off Trevor’s hair and into his eyes, forcing him to wipe away the water as swiftly as he could without potentially alerting this thing.

He heard its footsteps – light, almost like the human it was attached to was afraid of stepping on something and causing too much noise – approach the fence. Its moans were intermingled with a strange gurgling. Alucard said there was a second head – maybe it was pointed up towards the sky and had collected water? Who knew. He certainly didn’t, and he was loathe to find out. Next to him, Alucard slowly raised his revolver, cocking the hammer back in preparation to fire. The thing was so close, Trevor could practically smell the noxious poison that it produced. A long, drawn-out moan rolled across the Hive’s tongue, echoing in the stables with a horrific reverb that made Trevor feel as if everything in him was being rattled and shaken loose.

However, just as slowly and ungainly as the Hive had made its way towards them, it shuffled off. The groans and sobbing noises it made departed with it, this time for good apparently. Another series of gunshots rang out from uncomfortably close nearby, the slaughterhouse by Alucard’s judgment. Time to move. Trevor fell in behind Sypha, just barely keeping his head low in case the Hive could somehow detect them. An inhuman roar swept across the land as they neared the slaughterhouse, joined by the sound of blood hitting the floor – and maybe the walls – as well as an arrested yelp of pain.

Approaching the slaughterhouse was, if Trevor felt like waxing poetic, almost as if heading towards Hell itself. But, he didn’t feel like waxing poetic, and in honesty, the thing that freaked Trevor out more about this place was the multitude of bodies – human and animal alike – that were set out on poles and displayed like taxidermy projects. The remains of an enemy hunter, scant little but blood, two legs and part of a lower torso, lay outside the slaughterhouse’s main door, a wooden sliding thing that was charred and covered in blood. Inhuman groaning emanated from inside, replete with the rattling of chains of some kind. Heavy stomps came from inside, as did the sound of a shotgun being fired, but only once. Bloody squelching accompanied a hefty grunt. Truth be told, Trevor didn’t much like the implications.

“So, this is the source of this town’s misery,” Alucard noted, sighing deeply as he put a hand on the door. “In case you’ve managed to forget, Trevor, our contract is thus – we murder this beast, banish it, and bring back proof of death. Its head should suffice.”

“Close quarters with a demon,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “Yup. My favorite part of this job.”

Sypha nodded. “I’ll do what I can. What’s our plan?”

“I don’t know,” Alucard admitted. “We’ll tackle that issue when we see what we’re dealing with.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Sypha looked back at Trevor, who could only shrug. Sypha seemed worried, and for a moment Trevor felt a twinge of fear too. But, still, a job was a job, and he needed to get this one done. So what if the thing he was facing was some bizarre monstrosity that defied reason and explanation?

Hell, he’d faced fucking Dracula and came out alright.

A flash of lightning brought with it visages of zombies milling around, as well as further evidence of the chaos and hellish decorations that dotted the slaughterhouse’s exterior. Alucard put his hand on the door to the slaughterhouse, which rattled and shook as it was opened. The chains continued to clatter as the heavy stomps drew nearer to the door. Finally, Alucard turned on his electric torch, illuminating a narrow circle in the darkness with a dull amber light. The shuddering roar of the beast felt as if a harsh wind had blown past them, nearly knocking Trevor down with its intensity. He shouldered his rifle as it drew near.

Alucard’s electric torch was rendered useless – the beast was on fire. It stood and walked like a human, with two legs heavily affected by edema and clogged with the charred remains of flesh, as well as heavily pitted with wounds of unknown origin. Boils that desperately needed to be lanced covered the legs as well, especially on the toes that were bare and calloused. A heavy leather apron draped the front of the monster’s torso, and where it would have looped around the left-hand shoulder, it merely hung on a bare clavicle that had been sheared off at some point. Whether it was due to a weapon or an extremely violent self-amputation, Trevor wasn’t sure and didn’t much care to know. It’s other arm held a massive hook, covered in what smelled like kerosene and set aflame, which provided the majority of the light which illuminated it. The handles of various small axes poked out from bloody holes in the apron, while the stump of its left shoulder was covered in a bulbous mass that Trevor didn’t want to know the origin of. Adorning its head, where Trevor expected something human, a pig’s head sat there, its graying skin smirking at them as it stared with hollow, unblinking eyes.

“Well, that’s certainly new,” Trevor muttered.

Alucard charged in first, slicing away at the apron with his sword to apparently little effect. The beast – Trevor had decided to call it a Butcher due to its apron – swung clumsily at him, the inaccurate and haphazard attacks effortlessly dodged. Sypha moved behind layers of chains hanging from the ceiling, preparing spells to aid them. Which, of course, meant all Trevor could do was take aim and start firing. The recoil was harsh, especially as the Butcher continued to run amok with reckless abandon, and the rough nature of his rifle’s bolt just made follow-up shots harder. Honestly, the way this Butcher swung the flaming hook with wild abandon, Trevor wondered how it hadn’t already set the whole place on fire. Maybe it’d improve the place.

On his left, Sypha opened up with a blitz of fireballs, which harmlessly dissipated and only seemed to bother the Butcher, causing then to roar and turn their sights on her. The Butcher charged wildly, scattering chains and forcing her to back off and seek cover from the unrefined attacks. Trevor pumped three more rounds into it as fast he could, the en-bloc clip of his rifle clanging against the magazine and eventually the wooden floor as it fell down. He racked the bolt back, shoving a new clip in and tracking the beast. The Butcher harassed Sypha without rest, even as Alucard got involved in the fray and began to slash at it.

“Fire doesn’t work!” Trevor yelled. “Any more ideas?”

“Cutting its flesh seems to work alright!” Alucard yelled in between deep cutting blows. “Sypha! Try your ice magic!”

The chill wind of Sypha’s ice magic, a side-effect of her using it in such a confined space, filled the air as she blasted the Butcher with beams of ice and froze one of the legs in place. With another roar, the Butcher took the hook and shattered the ice with no issue, roaring as the leg was freed. The Butcher swung at Sypha, managing to land a blow on her arm that immediately began to bleed heavily, as well as catching her cloak on fire. Alucard shouted, drawing the beast’s attention as he continued to cut at it. Maybe he was trying to lop off its arm? Trevor didn’t know, and didn’t care right now.

Sypha backed off, desperately dabbing at the flames to put them out. Another rough working of the bolt, and Trevor had sent another round into the Butcher, somehow knocking off the swine head attached to it. This revealed a bloody stump, where a cracked and shattered series of bones stuck out like a hellish pike.

“Do we still need to get the head?!” Trevor shouted, shoving a new clip of rounds into place.

“Just kill it!” Alucard yelled back, finally succeeding in chopping off the Butcher’s arm. Enraged, the Butcher turned their focus on Alucard, charging wildly and managing to roll right over him, stomping on his torso as he was knocked to the ground.

_Well, fuck,_ Trevor thought. All up to him now. At least the Butcher didn’t have the hook anymore. Clearly, bullets weren’t much working against this creature, so time to swap over to his chain-whip. The Butcher charged for Trevor, abandoning the efforts against Alucard and Sypha for now, giving him the perfect opportunity to prepare the chain-whip. The first strike missed – not unexpected, he _was_ a little out of practice with it – but the followup hit the mark, causing the Butcher to scream out in pain despite lacking a head. Sypha had managed to put herself out long enough to join in with a flurry of ice-based attacks, allowing Trevor even more room to work. He could hear the Butcher’s spine breaking against the might of the chain-whip, sending it to the ground.

“Now!” Alucard yelled, straining to get up. “Sypha! Start the banishment ritual!”

With a sharp nod, Sypha began chanting. Almost immediately, the Butcher reacted violently, trying to use their broken back to lift themselves up and flailing uncontrollably towards Sypha. Alucard shakily stood up, implanting his sword into the Butcher’s back. The creature began to glow blue, as if immolated in an extremely hot flame as it quickly blackened, and the resistance slowly faded out.

“Congratulations, we killed the thing,” Trevor muttered. “Everyone alright? We need to lug some part of this thing back with us as proof, right?”

“We do,” Alucard replied, injecting himself with a vitality shot. “The head will suffice, as will our testimonies.

Trevor nodded, popping the clip out of his rifle. Two rounds in it. May as well stow it for later, load a fresh one in. Where had that stupid pig’s head fallen off at? Wait, there it was, near the stairs to the second floor. Trevor snatched up the head, tossing it towards Alucard mostly because it wasn’t like _he_ knew how they were going to carry the thing.

“I’m fine, by the way,” Sypha said to them, finishing the ritual. “What’s our next step? We go back to the Americans, right?”

Alucard nodded, placing the head into a burlap sack that he kept on his back. “The other hunters are undoubtedly either moving in on us now, or are waiting at strategic points. We should move, _now._ ”

_Best idea now anyway,_ Trevor thought, peeking out the door just in case there were incredibly unfriendly people outside. Nobody else but the zombies, and they seemed more interested in a horse that wasn’t quite dead yet than them. Better than being harassed by a horde of them. “Which way are we going?” Trevor asked. “Same way we came? Or what?”

“Yes, we’ll trace our path back,” Alucard said. “With a… minor detour. I’d rather avoid that wheat field.”

“Well, that should be easy then, right?” Sypha asked, following closely behind them with her knife prepared. “As long as we don’t come across anyone else…”

The storm was even more intense by now. However, much of the lightning and thunder had left the area, and they only had the dim glow of Alucard’s electric torch to guide the way. Even that was fleeting, as it frequently needed to be turned off to preserve the light within, and Alucard feared its light would only give away their position. Thus, stumbling and with only the occasional glint of moonlight reflecting off of the rain-soaked paths and flashes of rare lightning to guide the way, they traced a path back to whence they came.

An uncomfortably familiar moaning filled the air. Hive. Trevor had grown all too familiar with the noises this particular beast made. It sounded close, but at the same time, perhaps not. With the darkness and rain blinding him, he couldn’t tell where it was, and that would make shooting it nearly impossible.

“Do you see it?” Sypha asked him, a small flame emanating from her fingertips.

“No. I can barely see the end of my rifle in this dark.”

Behind him, Alucard sighed, his usually light footsteps made heavier by the weight of the head. “We need to move. I can sense enemy hunters nearby.”

“Since when can you do that?” Trevor asked, straining to see his half-vampire “friend” in the dark.

“New world magic requires binding with your soul. Those sufficiently versed in both new and old world schools, or those with vampiric blood such as myself, can detect other magic users if they’re within 45 meters of each other,” Alucard explained. “And, I would imagine Sypha is much like a beacon to anyone looking for us. They know the demon has been banished, and are eager to claim the contract for themselves.”

Sypha groaned, extinguishing her flame. “Then we _definitely_ need to keep moving. How can we avoid this Hive?”

Trevor sighed, carefully moving forward. The Hive was still close. He moved his way haphazardly ever closer to their escape, the sound of the Hive growing ever closer as its groans became more frequent and shorter with every step he took.

“Run” Alucard commanded. Trevor didn’t need a second command, and set to sprinting across the forest. The Hive reacted to the sound of their footsteps immediately, howling and releasing drones. Sypha set them aflame as they approached, tiny lanterns spinning down to the ground and providing Trevor with all the illumination he needed to shoot at the Hive. It stood still like a sentinel, dispatching forth wave upon wave of poisonous bugs that began to cloud his vision, and before long he felt the first stings. His aim was thrown off almost immediately by the bugs, and he lowered his rifle to swat at the things.

Sypha continued to set the bugs on fire while Alucard closed in, sword high. That didn’t much help Trevor any, but it wasn’t like he could do much to help out anyway. The poison was already taking effect – he coughed heavily, another beacon for a rival hunter team that basically advertised “Here I am, shoot me.” A shout from Alucard followed up by the sound of steel cutting into flesh, and like a specter of the night, the bugs ceased their noises and dissipated, which did not do much for Trevor’s current condition.

“Fuck,” Trevor muttered. “Alucard! This poison, how fast does it act?!”

Groaning, Alucard headed over to him, immediately jabbing a needle in his arm with no warning. The cold steel went straight through him, and with a small amount of pressure, he felt what must have been antivenom coursing through his veins. “There,” Alucard said. “There’s no time to waste. We need to keep moving.”

With the antivenom doing its work and the Hive’s drones burning, the new threat turned to the unknown hunters lurking in the dark, no doubt aligning their sights upon them. Trevor wasn’t much in the mood to see if they’d start firing now or wait, and thus he set off with Sypha and Alucard close by. He remembered this path – long way around the wheat field, down the hill that took them from the village. Easy. Simple. How many troubles could they run across between there and now?

As it turned out, not much. Trevor scraped his knees descending the hill, and despite flashes of lightning showing the path there was still a great deal of unease and uncertainty ahead. Alucard mentioned he could still sense other hunters, leading to the obvious conclusion that either someone was trailing them, or somebody had set up an ambush in the village. Either way, Trevor didn’t like it. He raised his rifle up cautiously as they neared the village, on guard for anything. Zombies milled about, their groans the only thing Trevor could definitively hear in the rain and storm.

Somebody shouted, definitely a human. A window or door was thrown open, and from the dark came a shot. The bullet whipped past Trevor’s head, and for a split second he saw the flash of the rifle that produced it, lighting up the face of the person behind it. Some kind of short-brimmed hat, maybe a poncho or something on their shoulders. Somebody else was running, not the sort of steps he knew from Sypha or Alucard. This was someone else, maybe trying to flank them. Sypha and Alucard broke left, intending to cut off a potential flanker while Trevor did his best to align his sights with where he figured the hostile hunter was at. He vaguely recalled most of the village buildings being rather simple in construct, mere planks of wood with little else in the way. Should make it easy to shoot through the wood.

Of course, he was acutely aware this also made _him_ an easy target to hit. Well, such as in demon hunting, you only got one chance to mess up in a gunfight. His opponent had already taken the first mistake, and Trevor wasn’t inclined to show a mistake of his own. One shot, then a second for good measure, both slamming into the wood. He couldn’t tell if the enemy hunter had even been hit or not through the rain and gunfire. Mixing with the shots of what sounded like a high-caliber revolver was the tell-tale sound of Sypha’s magic. Well, at least they had found the flanker. A series of rapid shots came out from the house Trevor had just shot, dispelling his theory of having shot the rifleman. Must have had one of those American lever-action rifles.

Someone shouted out and groaned on the left. “Move up!” Alucard yelled. Must have gotten the flanker. The shooting had paused – the rifleman must have run out of ammo. Trevor fired a single shot to suppress him, moving up the mud-filled street and only briefly spotting Sypha and Alucard flittering between buildings. Just as they approached the shooter’s house though, another shot rang out, this one from behind them. This slightly complicated things – were they shooting at the guy in the house, or at them? Trevor didn’t want to stick around and find out. Almost as if they were on the same track, Alucard charged into the house with his sword high, the sound of steel cutting flesh and a cry of pain emanating out not long after.

Another gunshot, followed up with indeterminate shouting. Sounded vaguely like German, but what the hell did Trevor know? The more important part of this entire fight was getting out, and with another group of enemy hunters on them, that hope was fading fast. Alucard quickly reported his guesses on where the enemy was, and with even more bullets filling the air, Trevor took it upon himself to reply in kind. Naturally, the gunfire drew the ire of local zombies that had wandered this way or hadn’t been cleared out, their groans and yells mixing with the gunfire. A shrill yell accompanied the door to their little house being broken in, and suddenly Trevor found himself face-to-face with an Armored, extremely pissed off and about to charge at him. Sypha immediately lit it aflame, good and bad since now it was quickly dying, but it now had caught the curtains that divided rooms on fire. The horrific screeching the Armored produced overwhelmed any conversation Trevor and Sypha were having, as well as anything Alucard had decided to say. Either way, Trevor knew it wasn’t safe to stay in here.

The bullets followed Trevor out as he broke for the freedom of the open village air, and he only dared to look back for a mere moment to check where the shooter was. No such luck – he had been reloading and thus did not reveal his position. More shouting, definitely in German this time. Something hissed at them, coming ever closer, and before Trevor could react it exploded. He found himself disoriented and dazed, his ears ringing and unable to keep balance. Something hurt, but he wasn’t sure what. He blinked, half-aware of… probably Sypha, using ice magic to put up a barrier. Alucard picked him up, draping Trevor’s arm across his back and carrying him.

“Come on!” Alucard yelled, right as Trevor’s hearing returned. “They’ll be distracted for a little while!”

The shouts of another Hive echoed, but it didn’t seem aimed at them. The faint cries of panicked German billowed out from the village, transforming into a long, pained scream that haunted Trevor as he was dragged away. Just a mere kilometer from the village, a horse and carriage they had chartered waited for them, the driver completely nonplussed at the sounds he must have heard.

Trevor fell into a deep sleep the minute he was shoved into the carriage, relived and glad all at once that they were finally done with this absurd contract.

* * *

Ms. Murphy looked at the pig head that they had claimed from the Butcher, examining it with a critical eye. Next to her, a man held a shotgun, probably just waiting for the word to shoot them or give them their pay. Alucard had already relayed the information about their travel to and from the contract – what else did she need? This entire thing was taking so long that, for a while, Trevor thought she was just using it as an excuse to keep them there and prepare an ambush. Eventually though, she nodded, smiling at Alucard and saying something to him. The gentleman with the shotgun leaned over, grabbing a burlap sack and tossing it to Sypha, which jangled as it landed in her arms. Must have been their pay. Alucard turned around, nodding to them. Looked like their job here was done.

“So, what’s next?” Trevor asked.

“Perhaps we’ll go back home,” Alucard replied. “I’m sure the Old World is mourning our departure.”

Sypha opened the bag up, grinning wide as she pulled out some gold coins. “Or… we could stay here a while longer. Go on a grand American adventure.”

“If we go back to the swamp,” Trevor warned, “I’m killing Alucard.”


End file.
